it hurts to wake up.

Like light through a lens, I feel good right now. Stretched out in long lines and lazy. We went swimming yesterday at Alex's parents' house. I could listen to her father talk for hours, and it'd be entirely for my own benefit. Truly a righteous dude who has read everything, and has most of it in hardcover in his home, poised to lend.

On the way home Audio fell asleep in the back seat and jayson fell asleep in the front. They both were awakened rudely when I had to slam the brakes on the 101. We barely beat a near pile-up and the baby woke up crying. It hurts to wake up sometimes.

Today I watched Italy win the title of best national soccer team in the world, after a healthy dose of human drama, tension, triumph, and disappointment. I saw the game over at RJ Shaughnessy's with he and Steve Berra, and conversation with those two has left my head singing with ideas. Singing like songs, not singing like burned hair. The french team was seriously crushed under the weight of coming so close to real glory, and watching them I thought that there is nothing so inspiring as seeing a grown man cry. Second place is a very bitter position. The highest of the humbled ranks.

Now I'm fully lunched, air-conditioned, and I have lost my tablet containing the last ideas for the tale of the whale. I think i'll have to call RJ before we meet this evening to see 'pirates'. Keep it as nautical as possible, my friends, it is the simplest thing. For in the words of your boy JC (Conrad, not Christ): Each ship is just like another, and the ocean is always the same.